


Endlessly

by theskywasblue



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghost needs, Steve provides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endlessly

The only time Steve said _no_ was when Ghost whispered, _is this too much?_ soft and damp against his temple, because really, Ghost gave him everything – every fucking little thing – right down to the ashes of himself, so what other answer could there be?

It was too hot under the covers, Steve's body wet with sweat even though Ghost was shaking cold, as if whatever nightmare that had pushed him out of his own bed and into Steve's had sucked all the warmth of life out of his skin. Steve's hands felt huge and clumsy sliding over Ghost's shoulders, too rough and too strong, even if Ghost shifted himself into every touch, whispered nonsense against Steve's shoulder that sounded like the lyrics of a familiar song. Steve could Ghost’s cock rubbing against his bare stomach through the fabric of Ghost’s pyjama pants, urgent and a little terrifying, and thought _we can’t do this_ , even knowing that there was nothing stopping them, that Ghost would be his whole damn world if Steve would let him.

“Ghost...” he tried, his voice soft, feeling strung out, like he was right on the razor edge of one of those terrifyingly bad highs where everything normal became beautiful and frightening at the same time. He slid his fingers along the spaces between Ghost’s ribs where they where tacked tight to the rail of his spine and prayed he wouldn’t tear right through Ghost’s skin.

Ghost breathed in hard against the side of Steve's neck – out, in, out – the rhythm hopelessly ragged as Steve pushed his fingers into Ghost's hair, a few strands catching around his knuckles and breaking off. “Please Ghost, c’mon.”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, really.

“I’m sorry,” Ghost whispered, lips dry against the tender spot behind Steve’s ear, “Steve, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t...” Ghost cut the words off by pushing his mouth against Steve’s, a kiss as careful as heartbreak, trying so hard to stop Steve from saying anything else without taking more than he thought Steve was willing to give. He stretched his body out along the length of Steve’s and they slotted together like fingers interlocking, like broken bones being reset; matching along every line, every rise and hollow. He rubbed his face – wet-cheeked with a tickling brush of soft eyelashes and a harsh scratch of stubble – into Steve’s neck while Steve breathed out, “Ghost...” hard and helpless the way that anyone else might have said _God_.

Steve didn’t believe in God; but Ghost – Ghost kept him whole, kept him sane, kept him from falling into the bottom of a bottle so deep that he couldn’t climb out again – and Steve wanted to keep Ghost too, regardless of anything else.

He palmed the back of Ghost’s neck, still damp with the cold sweat from his nightmare, and mumbled, “It’s okay Ghost, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Ghost lifted his head, gave up for a moment trying to hide himself in Steve’s skin; his eyes shone in the darkness, wide, wet and startled, and Steve kissed him, letting him taste the promise on the tip of his tongue, breathing, _yeah_ and _always_ deep into Ghost’s lungs.

Ghost held them there a long time, like he didn’t dare to breathe them out again.

-End-


End file.
